


The Consulting Hunters

by Sherlockedruid



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, superlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-04 16:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlockedruid/pseuds/Sherlockedruid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean, and Cas decide to investigate a case in the Northwest concerning missing children. While there they meet Sherlock and John who are having a holiday in America. Can the 5 of them put aside their differences to stop whatever supernatural force is taking the children?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Team Free Will and the Dynamic Duo

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfiction.  
> I started writing it for nanowrimo but I only got to 14,000 words.  
> But I liked what I had written so far so I decided to post it.  
> (I will try to update it and stuff but no promises.) 
> 
> ~ Sherlockedruid

Prologue

In a bunker hidden away from the world, a graceless angel is brought to safety by his only two friends in the world.

Across the pond, Sherlock Holmes knocks on a door 221B Baker St. It was answered by a shorter, older, gruffer man in a beige sweatshirt. After a moment of shock, he punched the man across the jaw, and proceeded to hug him, tears streaming down his face.

And in a small town, a young child has gotten lost in the woods. He wanders around, it’s getting dark. Suddenly he spies something in the corner of his eye. He turns but there’s nothing there. He keeps walking. He stops. There ahead is a figure. The child tries to focus on the man, but his vision starts becoming blurry. He rubs his eyes and looks again, but the figure is gone.  
By the next day, the child’s face is all over the news. But he is never found.

CHAPTER ONE: Team Free Will and the Dynamic Duo

“So Sammy, what have you got for us today?” Dean thumps into a chair across the table from his younger brother.

“I’m not sure, maybe nothing.”

Cas comes in from the kitchen holding a cup of coffee. “You guys never told me how glorious this beverage is.” He takes a gulp. He smiles content.

“Cas how many cups have you had?” Sam asks

“This is my 6th.”

Sam shakes his head.

Dean walks over to Cas. “Okay you know what, the only thing worse than a drunk Cas, would be a hyper Cas, so from now on, you drink decaff.”

“But Dean,”

Dean grabbed the cup from Cas and returned to his seat, where he proceeded to drink the coffee.

“Lighten up Cas, we got a big day ahead. Your first hunt.”

Cas sat down, “Did you find something?”

“Here, take a look at this, I noticed a large amount of missing children coming from the west coast, and sure enough, I checked into it and 24 children have gone missing in the Northwest area this year alone.”

“So? That doesn't sound like our kind of job.”

“Well yeah, except all the kids missing live around the same area of forest, and one of the kids had a friend who managed to escape. And the story he told the police was pretty wild.”

“Go on,” Dean continued to sip Cas’s coffee.

“He said that the further they walked, the darker it became. He said they both saw a “tall, skinny, guy in a suit.” Says it didn’t have a face. The kid also says his friend, the one who went missing complained of not being able to see clearly.”

“Maybe… reaper?”

“Reapers don’t take bodies Dean. And no bodies have been recovered. Ever. No clothing, no clues, nothing until this kid. And the police don’t know what to make of his story. They think he might be tied into it somehow.”

“Okay, so we go to the Northwest, and what waltz into the forest?”

“Maybe interview the parents of the kids?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

An hour later they were in the Impala heading west.

 

Sherlock and John were taking a break. Ever since Sherlock had returned to John, they’d felt the need to escape the plight of the newspapers; they needed a change of scenery. So they had gone to America. 

They were traveling, and solving little cases here and there.

At the present they were in a medium sized town in the northeast of Oregon named Moorestead. They had just walked into a diner. It was quaint, in an small town sort of way. They sat at a booth.

“John, I’m practically drowning in Americana, tell me again why we decided to visit here?”

“Sherlock, America is huge, in every since of the word. Surely there must be something around to interest you.” John was looking through a menu.

Sherlock sighed and looked around drearily.

The bell dingled as the door opened to let in 3 men. Sherlock turned to look at them, and what he deduced, intrigued him.

“John, look at those men who just walked in, what can you tell me about them?”

“Hmm,” John looked up to where Sherlock’s eyes were looking. The three men were sitting at a booth not very far away from them. They looked tough. Tough enough to beat up Sherlock easily, and probably John too.

“Well, they could do a number to us both.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “No John, you do not see. Look at the way their eyes shift, they’re watchful. Guarded. As if they are being chased. But they’ve taken the time to order a meal, they’re comfortable at this too. Done it many times. Look at their eyes.”

Sherlock had never paid very much attention to people’s eyes, he was usually more into their clothing, and way they held themselves. But as John studied the men’s eyes himself, he noticed what Sherlock did.  
There were three men. The obvious one in charge was about as tall as Sherlock, with short light brown hair, and a male model physique. He was fit, muscular, and wore 3 layers of warm, sturdy clothing giving the appearance of a mountain man. The second man was tall. Like, almost giant like tall. (In John’s short opinion.) He had long light brown hair trailing to his shoulders. He had a softer, kinder, yet trickier face, and was dressed in the same layered, sturdy clothing.

The last man was… different. He was shorter than the first man and wore the same type of clothing. But he was skinnier, looser, but in a way, more dangerous. His dark brown hair was very messy. The most interesting thing about this man was the way he looked around, asked his friends questions, that gave one the impression of a child.

But, as Sherlock had pointed out, their eyes were indeed strange. Each man had eyes far and beyond their years. Pain, sadness, death, horror, hate, anger, rage, loathing, were in all three men’s eyes. But also, in them were joy, adventure, amusement, fun, forgiveness, and an impossible amount of love.

These men acted like they had been to hell and back to save their loved ones from death, and that it had been nothing but a day trip.

“How odd.” Sherlock said.

“Sherlock, stop staring.” John said.

Sherlock gave one last look and turned back to the table where he drank (in his opinion) a rather disappointing cup of tea. “How long will we stay here John?”

“I don’t know…I kind of like it.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Maybe there’s a crime here?” John suggested.

“Well there had better be, or else I think I might have to contend myself with studying those men, and something tells me you wouldn’t think that appropriate.”

“Good. You’re learning.”

The boys paid for their meal, and walked out of the restaurant. Walking past the men, John overheard the words ‘forest’, ‘missing’, and ‘wendigo’.

They walked out and turned to get into their car. They had actually bought one, knowing that America was so big, and a car would be helpful.

They drove until they came to a hotel. ‘The Moore Room.’

John and Sherlock got out of the car and walked into the office. The clerk looked up and raised an eyebrow.

“Hello there, we’d like a room for, oh a week.”

Sherlock sighed.

“Funny place to spend a romantic holiday.”

“We’re not a couple.” John said simply. “Can I have the room? 2 beds please?”

“Yes, yes of course.”

Sherlock wandered around, not quiet seeming to pay attention but John new otherwise.

“So is there a convention or something?”

“What?” John looked at the clerk.

“Some sort of, “Still-In-The-Closet” support group going on?”

“What are you talking about?”

“There were 3 guys who came in just a couple hours ago asking for a room for a week. And let me tell you, the sexual tension between the two shorter guys could have been sliced in half.” The clerk rolled her eyes, like men who didn’t realize they were gay was the worst social mistake ever.

Sherlock strode over, “Were they all wearing plaid?”

“Yeah you know what, they were. Funny looking bunch. Sorta like three yorkie puppies that decided to start digging a hole if you know what I mean?”

John realized unfortunately that he did know what she was talking about, but decided to change the subject. “Okay, so how much will the room cost?”

When Sherlock and John finally got to their room, John threw their bags on the beds. “I call closest to bathroom.”

Sherlock didn’t seem to hear, he started looking through the newspapers he had bought at the front desk. “How can I be a Consulting Detective when the cops don’t consult me?” Sherlock flipped through the papers, “I hate going around like solving cases is an addiction I can’t control.”

“Does it matter?” John said absently. He was busy mulling over the fact that everyone always thought he was gay. And that the men they had seen at the restaurant had checked out here. And were also mistaken for being gay.

Unless they really were gay….

John let out a heavy breath. “I’m taking shower.”

“No John, can’t. Found a case.”

“Sherlock, I’m tired, and I want- "

Sherlock turned to look at John, he was halfway into his coat already. “I can go myself.” He stared at John.

John let himself me resigned to no shower, and moved to get his own coat.

Maybe I am a little gay. He thought.


	2. Who the Hell are You?

“Hello, I’m Agent Bruce, this is Agent Harvey, and Agent Robin, we’re here because of the missing children.”

The woman in the uniform looked flustered. “I didn't know the FBI were on this case.”

Dean, Sam and Cas pocketed their fake IDs. Dean looked the woman in the eyes, “And that’s why you aren't captain.”

The woman blushed and let the boys walk past. Cas stopped and put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, you will one day.” He smiled and left the woman with a confused look on her face.

The hunters walked into the main section of the police station. 

The captain walked up to them. “Can I help you?”

The woman came up to him. “They’re FBI agents; says they’re working on the missing children case.”

The captain nodded his head. “We need all the help we can get.”

The woman spoke up, “But what about those British men? Didn't you put them on the case as well?”

“Marla, those men are fine and all, but how much do they really know. I’d feel much better if we had some uniforms on the case. Truth is,” he said turning to the boys, “I’m on my wits end on this. I’d hate to do it, but I’m pretty darn close to closeing the case.”

“Don’t worry sir, we’ll find them. Can we take a look at the files?” Sam said.

“Of course, right this way.” He led them through some corridors until he came to a door which he opened to reveal a table with a mess of papers and two men who looked familiar going through them.

They looked up. “Who are you?” asked the dark haired one. He was dressed impeccably, and had a British accent.

“Hello boys, I know I just put you on this, but these men are FBI agents, and I’d feel better if they joined in on the case too.”

“Captain, I can’t work-“

“Of course sir, we’d love to have their help.” The shorter blonde haired one said, cutting off his friend.

“Great.” The captain walked out and closed the door leaving the Winchester gang in the room with the British boys.

“Hi, I’m Agent Bruce, this is Agen-“ Dean started pulling out his ID.

“No you’re not.” The tall man said with stunning assurance and an interested look on his face.

“Excuse me?” Dean said.

“I said you’re not really agents.”

“What makes you think that?” Sam said.

“Your suits are cheap. You’re hair is unregulated, you smell of motor oil, your hands are callused…” He walked over to Dean and took his badge.

“Fake. The glare is wrong, the print is missing a line, you got this at a print shop.”

Dean started getting angry.

The blonde British man was rolling his eyes and was stroking his hand through his hair.

“And you,” The man looked at Cas, “You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re scared. You know you’re lying. These two are at least trying to act the part, but you. You’re confused.”

“Okay, look here buddy, I don’t know who the hell you are, but you aren't cops, and you sure as hell aren't American. So either you leave this case to us, or I’ll sure give you something to deduce.” Dean pulled out a gun.

“Dean!” Sam said, forcing his brother to put the gun away.

Cas looked at the man. “I know you.”

“What?” Said Dean and Sam.

“Great.” Said the blonde British guy.

The tall man raised an eyebrow.

“You’re Sherlock Holmes.” A grin formed on Cas’s face.

“So, you've seen my website?”

Cas looked at Dean.

“Internet.” Dean said.

Cas nodded, he looked back at the man. “No.”

“How then?”

“You know so much about us. But I know all about you. I’ve watched you. You’re the great Sherlock Holmes.” Cas pointed to the other man, “And you’re John Watson. I’ve seen you solve murders, catch thieves, and deduce your way through countless mysteries.”

“You’re a fan then.”

“I saw when you were 2 and you burned yourself on the oven when you’re mother was talking on the phone. She just stood there as the maid ran to help. I saw when you were 9 and your Father forced you to stop asking questions when his work buddies were over for dinner. Later, he abused you. I saw your brother abandon you when you were 13 and had been made fun of for being gay. You had been mocked, hurt, and he left for his own friends. I’ve seen people laugh at you, scorn you, hate you.”

Sherlock paled. 

The man named John stood up abruptly. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“Cas, Cas, come on.” Dean put his hand on the fallen angel’s shoulder, “What are you doing man?”

“He knew all about us.”

“Well yeah, but that doesn’t me you can go all-“ Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Who are you?” Sherlock said menacingly. 

“I’m-“ Cas stopped, he looked at Dean.

John walked over with Sherlock’s coat in his arm, “Sherlock, let’s go.”

Sherlock let John push him out the door. “We’ll be back. This is our case too!” Said John as they rounded the corner.

“Well. That was freaky.” Said Dean as he stumped into a chair.

“How’d you know who he was Cas?”

“Back when- when I was an angel, before all this happened. Even before the apocalypse, us angels would travel the earth and study God’s creations. Especially man. The greatest creation of all. We would often find humans to study and follow, from birth on throughout their life. Sometime we’d be their guardian angels, other times it was just curiosity. And I,” Cas paused, “I was Sherlock’s angel.”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Often angels are guardians for several people. I’m yours Dean, and I was Sherlock’s as well. I have, or rather had, many other humans I was guardian for. I’m afraid I left them all behind when I saved you. I think about them sometimes…” Cas trailed off.

“And, what about this Sherlock guy?” Dean asked.

“He was particularly interesting. Always sort of lonely, different.”

“Yeah, we got that from what you told him. Pretty harsh.” Sam said.

“I tried to help him. I tried one last time to make his life better. It was about, 7 years ago. Not very long before I pulled you from hell, I introduced him to John Watson. His guardian angel was Bartholomew. We were both so busy, we hoped those two would help each other, and I think they did. Bartholomew would be proud.”

Sam and Dean stared at Cas.

“Okay…” Dean said slowly. He didn’t know what to make of this. The three of them stood in silence.

“We’ll definitely need to talk about this later, but we should get on with the case. I guess.” Sam said after a few seconds.

Dean shook his head as he started looking through the papers. “I can’t believe we have to work on this case with those idiots.”

“They aren’t idiots Dean.” Cas said gruffly.

“Fine, fine, let’s just move on.”

The all sat around the table, feeling slightly awkward due to the last 10 minutes. But Sam started them off.

“Okay, so over the course of 1 year, 24 children have gone missing in the town of Moorestead. They have all gone missing around the surrounding forests the locals call…” He looked at Dean, “You won’t believe this.”

“What?”

“The locals call the forest Lucifer’s Hallow.”

“Wow. That brings back memories….seriously, Lucifer’s Hallow? Who calls a forest Lucifer’s Hallow?”

“I know, anyway, so I guess we should start by interviewing the families of the missing children. See if anything odd is up. I’ll go alone, and you can go with Cas, we’ll separate the families and go down the list we should hopefully be done by tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They took the files and left the police station. They drove to a car rental place and dropped off Sam. 

Dean and Cas drove off in a hurry.


	3. Interviews About Monsters: By Sam and Sherlock

Sam

The first house on Sam’s list was the family who had lost their son almost a year ago. The house was nice, 2 story, elegant, white picket fence, and a beautiful tree out front. Sam opened the gate and walked up the steps to the front door. He knocked and it took about 24 seconds for the door to open to a kid of about 19. He was holding a camera which he moved up and down Sam.

“Yes?” asked the boy behind the camera.

Sam pulled out his badge. “Agent Harvey. I’m here to talk about George Taylor.”

The boy’s face went down about 40 degrees; however he continued to film, “George is my brother. Are the cops finally doing something about it?”

Sam heard a distinct element of bitterness.

“Yeah, they are pretty slow on that. Can I come in?” He put on his, as Dean would say, ‘puppy-dog eyes.’

The boy nodded and let Sam through as he closed the door behind them. 

“I hope you don’t mind me filming, it’s kind of a hobby.”

“More like an obsession if you ask me.”

A man strode down an impressive flight of stairs. “That kid is always filming.” The man got to the bottom and strode to Sam with his hand held out.

Sam took is as the man introduced himself. “I’m Ozzie Taylor, who are you?”

Sam let go of Mr. Taylor’s hand and once again took out his badge. It’d be so much easier to have it displayed at all times…

“Agent Harvey, I’m investigating the disappearance of your son George.”

The smile faded off of Mr. Taylor’s face. “George. He’s been gone for about a year now huh. The fuzz is finally doing its job eh?”

“Yes sir.” Sam said.

The man led Sam to the living room where he sat down on a very soft couch across from Mr. Taylor and his son.

“So, what do you want to know?”

“If you noticed anything strange in the weeks before your son’s disappearance. Strange cars, strange people, if George complained about anything. Especially anything out of the ordinary.”

“You know it’s been a while…. it’s funny now that I think about it, but George was also complaining about his vision. I suppose if he hadn’t gone missing he would have gotten glasses…”

“Vision? Did you know that the boy who escaped a few weeks said his friend complained of loss of vision?”

“No, I didn’t…”

“Anything else?”

Mr. Taylor shook his head.

“Okay.” Sam stood up, “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime son.” The man walked Sam out the door.

Sam walked back down the steps mulling over what he had heard, when the door opened again and the kid ran out.

“Hey, I didn’t want to say anything in front of my old man, but George and I were both into filming. We were making a movie together when he went missing. I didn’t understand it at first but George was acting really strange.”

“How?”

“Like, he said he kept seeing someone, like a dark figure or that something was wrong with the film. But he’d never show me what was going on.”

“That’s weird.”

“I know, it would freak my dad out if I told him what I really thought was going on.”

“What do you think is going on?”

“The same thing that happened to all the other kids in this town, a monster got them.”

“Do you have any idea what kind of monster it would be?”

The kid raised his eyebrows. “You believe me?”

Sam shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m not sure to be honest. But whatever it is, I’m going to find it.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Don’t worry, I’m just filming a lot hoping I get this thing on tape.”

“Yeah well, take it easy alright?”

“Fine.” The kid watched Sam and he got into his car.

“Hey,” Sam said, “What’s your name?”

“Fredrick.”

Sam nodded and drove away.

When he had driven for a minute or so, Sam stopped the car and called Dean. He told Sam about how he and Cas had gone to the wrong house and had ended up spending 20 minutes listening to her view on the government before they could break away. Then Sam told him all about what he’d learned about the Taylors and said to keep an ear about cameras and loss of vision. He hung up and headed to the next house.

 

Sherlock and John

“We’ll be back. This is our case too!” John shouted as he rounded the corner with Sherlock in tow. He didn’t stop until they were back in the car.

They just sat there silently, John behind the wheel and Sherlock in shotgun.

“I miss riding in taxis.” John said.

Still Sherlock sat there.

“Are you okay?”

“Do you remember when we solved that case at Baskervilles?”

John knew where this was going.

“Before I knew it was just gas, I was worried. I was confused…I was frightened.”

“I know.”

“I feel that way again John.”

“It’s okay Sherlock.”

“No John!” He said rising his voice and crinkling his nose in the way that made John sad, “It’s not okay! I must find out how that man knows about me!”

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable and scientific explanation for it Sherlock.”

“That’s what people say when they aren’t sure a scientific explanation is the only possibility.”

That shut John up quick. He started the car.

“Where should we go now?”

Sherlock pulled a piece of paper out of his coat. “I stole a copy of the file.” He tossed into John’s lap, “That should get us started.”

John looked it over, “I guess we should start with the Taylor family.”

“No, those idiots are sure to go that way. No, we shall go talk to the child who escaped the kidnapping. Daniel Sylvester.”

They drove for 10 minutes, (John would never get used to driving on the wrong side of the road) and stopped at a small house with a dog running around in the front yard. A lady was watering the lawn.

John and Sherlock got out of the car and walked up to the lady. The dog came up and sniffed at their feet.

“Stupid dog never barks at strangers.” Said the lady holding out her hand, “Lydia Sylvester, what can I do for you?”

Sherlock ignored the hand, instead eyed the dog cautiously. John moved to take her hand.

“Hello, we’re consulting for the police on the disappearance of Jeremy Baker. I’m John Watson, and this is Sherlock Holmes.”

“You’re a long way from home, what brings you over?”

“Mrs. Sylvester, can we speak to your son?” Sherlock said suddenly.

“I’ve told the police countless times he’s got nothing to do with it.” She said getting defensive.

“That may be, but he’s a witness. The only witness.”

“I told Dan to stop hanging around Jeremy. But he didn’t listen, he never does.” She said turning off the hose and going into the house, “Daniel come out here you got some visitors!”

It took a minute, but soon enough out through the door came a boy of about 16 or 17. He was wearing skinny jeans and a t-shirt that had a picture of a skull. His hair was slicked back, and his eyes had dark bags under them. 

“What is it?”

“Dan, these men are-“

Sherlock interjected, “Can you tell us everything you know about the kidnapping of your friend Jeremy?”

“Good god not again.” He said turning back to the house.

“Dan, you will stay here and talk to these men.”

“Mom, you can’t order me around! I’m 17!”

Sherlock and John rolled their eyes. Sherlock walked briskly up to Dan, grabbed him by his t-shirt and shoved him against the wall. Mrs. Sylvester moved to interject, but John put out his hand.

“Daniel, my friend and I, we are consulting with the police. We are not the police. If you don’t tell us everything you know, more children will go missing. You see my friend there, he’s killed people. People who got in the way. And me, well, I’d rather not say.” He pulled out his gun.

“Fine!” He shrugged away from Sherlock and straightened his shirt. “So my friend Jeremy and I were walking in the forest. He was a huge photo nerd, and was talking pictures of plants and bugs and things, when suddenly his camera stopped taking the pictures correctly. Like, he’d take a picture, and when he’d look at it afterwards something would be dark, or blurry or something.”

“I said to tell me about the kidnapping, not your camera defects.”

“You said to tell you everything.”

“Everything of importance.”

“But it is part of the kidnapping. He was taking a scenic picture, of trees and stuff and when he goes to look at it, there’s this guy standing way off in the back. We looked up but couldn’t see anyone and Jeremy said he was sure no one was standing there when he took the picture. So he took another one. And just like before, there was guy standing in the picture. But this time he was closer. Jeremy took picture after picture and each one showed to guy getting closer and closer, he was super tall, and his arms were really long, and he was wearing a suit, but the creepiest part was he had no eyes or nose or mouth. He was featureless. That’s when Jeremy started rubbing his eyes he said he was losing his vision. We started running, and I could feel something coming towards us. All of a sudden I tripped and everything went dark. When I woke up, Jeremy was gone, and so was the monster.”

“Monsters don’t exist.”

Daniel narrowed his eyes at Sherlock and said, “Screw you.” Then left and went back into the house.

Mrs. Sylvester apologized for her son’s behavior as Sherlock turned to leave followed by John who thanked the woman.

“John, what is going on?”

“Don’t worry Sherlock, we’ll figure this one out. Those men at the station, I bet they know something. Maybe they could help?”

Sherlock didn’t answer, but John took it as a yes. “I guess we should try to run into them. You said they would most likely start at the Taylors, so let’s go to the next house. The…” John scanned the list, “Williams.”

John started the car, once again wishing for a taxi, and drove off to the Williams’ address.


	4. What Are You Doing Cas?

The ’67 Chevy Impala came to a stop in front of a completely normal looking house with a too-green lawn, and stucco walls.

Dean shivered, “Neighborhoods like these creepy me out.”

“I don’t see anything creepy about this neighborhood.” Cas said.

“It’s not what you see, it’s what you don’t see.” Said Dean getting out of the car, with Cas close behind him. They walked up the drive way and around the front garden bed and came to the door, Dean rang the bell.

“I really hope this is the right house…”

He took a sniff of fresh wood chips and wrinkled his nose. The door opened to a man of about 40, nice clothing, nice hair cut, clean shaven. “I’m not looking to start a relationship with Jesus Christ thank you very much.” Said the man.

“Why not?” Said Cas.

Dean looked at his innocent friend as he pulled out his badge. “No sir, I’m Agent Harvey, this is Agent Robin, and we are investigating the disappearance of Tabatha Williams.”

“Tabby?”

“May we ask you a few questions?”

“Of course, come in, come in.” He shut the door behind them. “Darlene, there are some men here to ask about Tabby!” He called through the spacious house.

Dean followed Mr. Williams through the house into the living room where a lady who was just as perfectly dressed and groomed as her husband was sitting. However her face was not perfect. It was sad. She turned to greet Dean and Cas with a small smile.

“Please sit down.” She said.

They did so, as Mr. Williams took a seat next to his wife. “What would you like to know, we’ll tell you anything.” Mr. Williams said.

“Did your daughter talk about seeing strange things, being followed, loss of vision, anything out of the ordinary?” Dean started off.

The couple looked at Dean funny, but he was used to it.

“You know these kids don’t tell their parents much.” Mr. Williams laughed sadly.

Mrs. Williams spoke up. “Her grades were very poor the couple weeks before her disappearance.” Mrs. Williams looked at Dean intently, “The School nurse said I should have her eyes checked out…”

Dean raised his eyebrows.

“How did you know that she need glasses?” Mrs. Williams asked.

“A few of the other children have reported loss of vision.”

“But what would that have to do with kidnapping?”

“I-.” Dean didn’t know what to say. He turned to Cas who was just as (or even more) stumped than he was.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Mr. Williams apologized as he stood up and walked out of the room.

Dean couldn’t hear what was going on, but he was all together surprised, and rather upset as Mr. Williams came back into the living room with the British guys, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

“What the hell?!” Dean demanded.

“Now, now, don’t be like that you know the police put us on the case too.” Sherlock said smoothly with a voice as deep as a dragon’s. He strode up and sat down next to Cas. John came and squeezed between Dean and Cas.

Mr. Williams sat down and he and his wife looked awkwardly at the four uncomfortable looking men on their sofa.

“Agent Harvey,” Sherlock said in a voice that could only be described as sweet, “why don’t you catch me up?”

“Well,” Dean swallowed, “Mrs. Williams had told me that her daughter Tabby was having loss of vision that was affecting her grades, just a couple weeks before she disappeared.”

A slim look of something like fear slipped into Sherlock’s facial expressions but was gone a minute later. “Indeed. That does seem to fit what I have heard.” He stood up suddenly.

“That you Mr. and Mrs. Williams, you’ve been most helpful. I’m sure the marriage will work itself out just as soon as Mrs. Williams stops seeing the neighbor. Good day.” And with that Sherlock strode out the living room and through the front door followed by a very perturbed John, an excited Cas, and a confused and rather upset Dean.

When they got to the side walk, Sherlock turned onto Cas. “You, will explain what you did back there at the station.” He looked at Dean, “and you will explain about what is going on with this case.”

“Listen, Sherlock,” Dean started.

“No Dean, he deserves the truth.” Cas said staring at Sherlock intently.

“Good. Meet us at the hotel diner in one hour.” And with that Sherlock left with John behind him.

Dean left with Cas following and they got into the car.

“Dammit, Cas.”

“What’s wrong Dean?”

“One of the most important rules of hunting is to keep the public in the dark. We can’t have a bunch of nuts running around claiming that ghosts and witches, and for god’s sakes angels, really exist. We can’t tell him.”

“Yes I can Dean. We need Sherlock, and he needs us.”

“Cut the crap Cas, you just want to follow your old buddy around. Like old times right? Being a hunter to good for you?”

Dean started the car and turned up the music so loud Cas could no longer talk.

 

The four men filed into the diner and sat in a booth as far away from other people as possible. Dean slid in first on one side, John slid into the other, Sherlock looked uncomfortable as he sat down next to John, and Cas sat down next to Dean never taking his eyes off of Sherlock.

“So, let’s start at the beginning. If you aren’t FBI agents, what are you?” John asked.

Dean gave Cas a hard look, then took a deep breath. “We’re hunters.”

“You think a wild animal is taking the children?” John asked.

“Not exactly, you see…. my brother Sam and I, ever since our mother died, we’ve been hunting monsters.”

Dean saw a small twitch go through Sherlock. John leaned a little closer to him.

“Monsters?” John asked.

“Surely you mean humanity at its very worst?” Sherlock asked.

“No. I mean ghosts, witches, demons, poltergeists, vampires, werewolves, hellhounds, shape shifters, reapers, djins, and goddamn angels. Among other crap.”

The four were silent.

“What proof do you have?”

Dean had had the good sense to bring his Dad’s journal. He started with that. He showed Sherlock and John the pictures, articles, exorcisms and symbols. He told them about he and his brother caught and killed all manner of horrific things. He showed them his anti-possession tattoo, and the hand-print of Cas’s hand when he’d pulled him from hell.

That led to another part of the conversation.

“What do you mean pulled you from Hell?” John asked. He was doing almost all of the question asking.

“I mean, Sam was dead, so I made a deal with a cross-roads demon. That brought him back to life, but I only had one year you live. After the year was up, a hellhound came and got me, and dragged my ass to hell. Until this son of a bitch came and went all ‘I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.’ on me.” Dean said the last part in Cas’s voice.

“You remember that?” Cas asked.

Dean started to blush and quickly continued, “You see Cas here used to be an angel. He’s a million years old, and he- well to be honest he was pretty messed up, but he lost his grace a little bit ago so now he’s a regular human.” He turned to look at Cas with a sad look.

“So wait, hell, demons, angels, heaven, and…God, all really exist?”

“Yes.” Said Cas, “I used to be an angel. I saw the earth form, I saw humans begin their life. I saw you Sherlock be born. I was your guardian angel.”

“I don’t need God’s help.”

“God’s been missing actually, no one really knows what happened to him.”

“Really? Has anyone told the religious guys? Unless, you are religious?”

“Hell no.” Said Dean.

“Do not talk about them like that. They have great faith.” Said Cas quietly, “Perhaps with all their faith they can bring him back.”

Sherlock got up and started pacing the diner.

“Is he okay?” Dean asked John.

“I don’t know, to be honest. It’s harder for him, he’s very logical. Your story is very hard to swallow, he’d believe better if he saw something to prove it.”

Dean looked at the tall man. He was dressed in smartly tailored black pants and a white shirt with a black over-shirt, a long, heavy coat, and a blue scarf around his neck. His hair was shaggy, dark curls.

Cas got out of the booth and walked up to Sherlock. “We can show you proof.”

The men left the diner and walked over to Dean’s car. He opened the trunk and showed Sherlock and John the guns, salt, holy water, knives, bullets, and other strange things. He let Sherlock talk to Kevin who (with his advanced placement) was able to help Sherlock understand this a bit more logically.

They called Garth who had a ball hearing from them.

(Dean considered calling the Ghost Facers, but he decided they’d be a step in the wrong direction.)

Then Dean thought of all the other people he couldn’t call to help convince Sherlock.

Bobby, their dad, Ellen and Jo, Ash, Charlie… He slammed shut the trunk.

“Okay, I really think is probably a bad idea, but if Cas thinks you should know all this, then that's good enough for me. Let’s go find a ghost to ice.”

It wasn’t that difficult. They just quickly searched the local lore for possible haunting, drove to a rickety old factory, used their EMF reader, found a ghost, tried to get it angry, (but to no success) then left.

One the drive back Dean complained how of all the ghosts they have ever run across, this one had to be the only one not worth his salt.

However as Dean drove his car, ACDC playing quietly in the background, Sherlock in shotgun, and Cas and John in the back, he felt like they had done a decent job of convincing the poor guy.

“So Sherlock, what do you think?”

“My mind wants to ignore what my eyes have seen. It’s making excuses for how this could not be….” Sherlock put his head in his hands, “It can’t be real…. But it is. I’ve seen it.”

The four rode in the car in silence.

Suddenly the phone rang. It was Sam.

“Hey Sammy what’s up?”

“I’m at the hotel Dean, where the hell are you?”

“Slow down, boy we’re not dead or anything. At the William’s house we ran into Sherlock and John, and they demanded we talk them about what’s going on. So we did, then we found a ghost and tried to get it angry so I’d have to kill it, but can you believe it, it just stood there. It was ridiculous.”

“Uh-hu. Where are you now?” 

“Coming back from the factory, we’ll be back at the hotel in about 10 minutes.”

“Fine. Just hurry up, I got some things you’ll want to check out.”

“See you.” Dean hung up and looked at Sherlock who was looking at him. 

“Your brother looks out for you?”

“Yeah, which is weird cause I’m the older one.” Dean looked back onto the road.

“You know, I always hated my life growing up. I thought no one else could have had it so bad. But, I do not envy your life.”

Dean looked at Sherlock again but said nothing.

They drove in silence until they came to the hotel. Dean stopped in front of his room, and they all got out. Sherlock and John said goodbye and started walking to their room and Dean and Cas walked into their own.


	5. Falling Asleep in Awkward Situations

In B.C. (before Cas) Dean and Sam and always gotten one room at the hotel, and they each got one bed. It was simple, cheap, and worked like a charm. Now however they had Cas. And this was the first night having to deal with this problem.

Dean unlocked the door and walked in with Cas following behind. Sam was at the desk on his laptop. He had taken off his suit, and taken a shower. He was wearing only boxers, and a t-shirt.

“Hey guys, how’d the heart-to-heart go with Sherlock and John?”

“I think it went really well.” Cas said as he walked over to the bed and took of his sports coat. Poor guy had lived almost his entire life on earth in a suit, and now that he was human, they had stuck him in one again.

“So I was thinking,” Dean began.

Sam looked up from his laptop.

“What are the sleeping arrangements?”

Sam closed his laptop. “Huh, I didn’t really think of that. I guess I figured one room for a one guy wasn’t worth the money.”

“Wasn’t worth the money eh? Well somebody has to sleep on the floor now.”

Dean and Sam both knew they weren’t going to let Cas sleep on the floor. He’d been homeless, he was new at all this, he was young. Sort of.

“Ah, I’ll do it.” Dean said begrudgingly.

“Dean, you don’t have to do that, I don’t mind-“ Cas started.

“No Cas, you get the bed.” Dean said. 

“You could always...” Sam started.

“What?” Asked Dean.

“Share?”

“Share? You want me, to share a bed with Cas?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Asked Cas.

“Come on Dean, you don’t want to sleep on the floor, plus the bed is big enough for two people.”

“Yeah but-.”

“Cas, are you alright with sharing a bed with Dean?”

“As long as it doesn’t require intercourse.”

Sam broke into laughter.

“Oh god.” Dean said covering his face with his hands.

“What? I don’t understand.”

“I could always sleep on the floor.” Sam said.

“No.” Dean looked at Sam, “I’m going to take a shower.” He stood up and walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

“What did I say?”

“When someone says you could always share a bed, they don’t mean sleeping together.”

“But they would be sleeping together.”

“Sleeping together mean having sex Cas.”

“Oh, and sharing a bed, does not?

Sam continued to laugh.”No it doesn’t.”

“I think I get it now.” He stood up and walked to the bathroom door, “Dean, I would be happy to share a bed with you.”

“Thank you Cas!” Dean yelled back.

After Dean got out, they told Cas he should take one too. They still had to remind him to do certain human things like take a shower, wear deodorant, and brush his hair. They would help him with stuff too, shaving, picking out clothing that matched, wearing a seatbelt. It was an odd relationship the three of them had, and if an outside could over hear them talking, it would seem like two older brother talking to younger brother, or two dads talking to their 5 year old son. Either way, people who saw that the subject of this instruction was a man who looked older than both Sam and Dean, were confused.

After Cas got out of the shower and all the guys where in their boxers and t-shirts, they sat down to have a meeting.

“So Sam, you said you had something important?”

“Yeah, while you guys where off revealing all our families secrets to strange people I was actually working on the case, I visited 3 more families. They all say the same thing: each kid complained of eye problems a few weeks before they went missing.

“Well that doesn’t sound like anything I’ve ever heard of.”

“Yeah, so I called Kevin to look thought the Men of Letters archives to look for something. Anything.”

“Has he called back yet?”

“No.”

“Do you think it could be something new?” Cas asked.

“Like, new as in, brand new monster no one’s ever faced?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know.” Dean said.

“Dude, we’ve seen enough stuff to know that anything is possible.” Sam said as he got into bed and turned off his light.

“Wait, you’re going to bed?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I’m tired. You know, from doing my job? Why are you afraid of something?”

“Shuddup.” Dean said as he and Cas got into bed. Dean scrunched up as close to the edge as possible and turned to Cas.

“Okay look, I don’t know what kind of sleeper you are, but please try to stay on your side. I don’t want to wake up to have you lying on top of me okay?”

“Yes of course Dean.”

“Good…” Dean turned off their light, “Goodnight Sam, goodnight Cas.”

“Night Destiel.”

“Dammit Sammy!”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing go to bed.”

“Good night Sam, good night Dean.”

The three boys all slunk under their blankets and fell asleep one by one. First Sam who was silently laughing to himself. Then Cas who was wondering what happened to all the other humans he had sworn to guard. And last of all Dean, who was too busy worrying over the fact he was sharing a bed with Cas to fall asleep for a while. Until he remembered how his mother used to tell him that angels are always watching over him, and decided that even though Cas technically wasn’t an angel, he was the closest thing Dean was going to let get close to him, and here he was, sharing his bed. So in a way, it comforted Dean. To just know there was another human being so close in such a personal way, who wasn’t in the bed with him just because of sex, but because he was a friend who didn’t want Dean to sleep on the floor.

Dean fell asleep with a smile on his face.

A few apartments over, Sherlock and John were also falling asleep, sort of.

Upon entering the room, John had taken a shower, then went right to sleep. Sherlock however stayed up, sitting there in the dark thinking over what he had just seen. He turned to look at a corner.

What could be lurking there.

Or in the other corner.

Or under the bed.

Or in himself.

He didn’t know how to deduce demons and ghosts and monsters.

He took off his clothes and crawled into bed.

He had never before felt so vulnerable. He turned to look at John’s shape on the other bed. Breathing in and out rhythmically.

If that was even John.

“John.”

John sat up immediately.“What is it Sherlock?”

“Is- is that really you?”

Even in the dark Sherlock could sense John’s face go from ready-to-kill to Sherlock-you-idiot-I'm-right-here.

“Yes of course it’s me.”

“Good. I thought as much.” Sherlock tried to gather up what pride he still had left.

“Are you thinking about what Dean said?” 

“No of course not.”

“Sherlock, you might be able to deduce people’s thoughts and lives, but I pride myself on knowing how to deduce people’s hearts.”

“John, you can’t deduce my feelings. I’m sitting in a different bed, the light is off, and you’re an idiot.”

“What time is it?” John said as he looked at the bedside clock.

4:22

“Sherlock, have you been awake this whole time?”

“I don’t need sleep John.”

Sherlock heard a long sigh from the other bed. Then he heard John get out of the covers and felt as he came into his own.

“John what are you doing?”

“Don’t worry I’m not going to shag you. I’m just here to protect you.”

“John that’s stupid how can you protect me?”

“Goodnight Sherlock.” John turned his back away from Sherlock and started breathing evenly.

Sherlock looked at his strong muscular form under the blankets.

“John.” He whispered to himself as he got under the sheets and put his own back to John’s.

Their breathing became matched, and Sherlock fell asleep.


	6. Where Are You Dean?

Sherlock awoke with a fright. He bolted up, sweat running down his body, his hair clinging to his cheeks and neck. What had woken him?

John sat up at once, as a pounding came from the door. 

“Hey, I don’t know about the UK, but in America we get up in the morning!” Dean yelled through the door.

John quickly jumped out of bed and pulled on a pair of trousers while Sherlock sat in bed with a look somewhere between moping and despair.

John unlocked the door with a quick look at Sherlock that told him that Sherlock was completely naked under that sheet. John started blushing as he opened the door. A cool fresh breeze floated into the stuffy room along with Dean, Sam, and Cas. As Dean walked in he switched on the light that revealed Sherlock’s clothes all over the floor, and Sherlock still in bed.

“Up and attam guys, if you want to be a part of this group, you need to wake up with this group.” 

Sam dropped bags onto the table. “We didn’t know what you wanted for breakfast so we got Danishes. You guys like that right?”

John gave Sam a confused look. 

“Good.” Sam tossed John a Danish.

Sherlock got out of bed with the sheet wrapped around himself that reminded John of the time they had been summoned to Buckingham palace. John formed a small smile as he watched Sherlock stumbled to the kitchenette looking for a cup of tea that wasn’t there. John’s eyes strayed to Sam’s who raised an eyebrow as he looked at John who was looking at Sherlock.

John blushed even more.

“We still have a lot of families to visit, but odds are they’ll just tell us the same thing, so some of us should look into Lucifer.”

“By ‘Lucifer’ you are referring to Lucifer’s Hallow?” Sherlock asked gruffly.

“Yeah.”Dean shrugged, “Who wants which job?”

No one said anything.

“Wow, okay, so do you guys want to be on your own team, or do you want one of us with you?”

“We don't need your help.” Sherlock said bitterly.

“Yes, actually, I don’t want to run into something and not know what to do.” John said.

“Okay good. Sammy, do you want to go with John and Mopilock?”

Sherlock ignored Dean as Sam told Dean off for named calling.

“Can I go with Sherlock and John?” Cas asked quietly.

“Cas, you aren’t what I call, a ‘first-rate hunter.’ They’ll be better off with Sam.”

“Dean,”

John looked over at Sherlock who was giving him a scared look.

“You know what, we’ll go with Sam.” John said.

“Oh, okay.” Cas said.

“Good, which job do you want then?" Dean asked.

“Interviews.” Said Sherlock. 

“Alright.” Dean said, “Come on Cas, let’s go explore Lucifer’s deep dark places.”

“I sense that you are making a joke, but I do not find it funny.” Said Cas and they walked out the door. 

“So, how long until you’re ready?” Sam asked.

“I don’t suppose I can go like this?” Sherlock asked half-heartedly.

“No Sherlock.” John said as he gathered Sherlock’s clothing.

Sherlock walked into the bathroom to change. 

“So, are you and Sherlock-“

“Not a couple.”

“Ah.” Sam smiled as he turned away. 

When Sherlock and John had gotten ready, the three men grabbed their stuff and headed into Sherlock and John’s car. John took the driver’s seat, Sherlock took shot-gun, and Sam sat in the middle.

“So his is how Cas always feels.” He thought to himself. Aloud he said, “So, I think the first house we should check should be the Bennents.” 

When they got there Sam noticed this house was darker than the rest. But not in a way he could describe. He got out of the car as Sherlock and John did the same. 

“Interesting.” Sherlock said noticing the house not in front of them, but across the street. It had a mangy lawn and dirt path. The house was in shambles, with broken windows, and a burnt tree, and a roof that needed fixing. There were plants on the window sills that were dead, and the paint was peeling. Despite this however, there were chalk marks on the sidewalk and drive way. Fresh looking too, there were even bits of chalk left over. There was smoke coming from the chimney, and piano music could be heard from the broken windows.

Sam looked at John and Sherlock, they seemed to have a sort of agreement that this house was worth looking into.

The three men walked up with Sam taking the lead. He tried ringing the doorbell, but it was broken. So he knocked instead.

It took a while for someone to answer, and when someone did it was a little girl. She was about 11, maybe. She had bare feet, dirty legs and shorts that were very short. She was wearing a raggy shirt, and her arms were riddled with cuts of different stages of healing.

Her face was also dirty, with something surrounded her mouth that Sam hoped was food. Her hair was short and choppy and her eyes were narrowed in defense.

“Yea?”

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Sam said kneeling down.

“Daddy says I can’t answer that.”

“Can we talk to your daddy?”

The girl shook her head spazmaticley.

“Is he at home?”

Again she shook her head. Another figure came from behind. It was a boy. About mid teens. He was wearing a 2X t-shirt over his lanky, short body. His hair was long and braided down his back. His eyes were big and curious.

“Who are you?” He asked in some sort of ecstasy.

“Hi, my name is Sam, this is John, and Sherlock, we’re here to help you. Can we speak to your Father?”

“Sam. John. Sherlock.” The boy savored each word like it was a gift from heaven. 

“What’s your name?”

“George.”

Sam's eyes grew wide.

“You’re that kid, the one that first went missing.”

George ignored this, so Sherlock decided to try.

“What’s your name little girl?”

She shook her head more forcefully this time. “No. no. no. no.”

“What’s wrong with her?” John asked George.

“She’s afraid Father will come and hurt us.”

“Will he?” 

“Yes.”

“Then why are you talking to us?”

George’s eyes glazed over. The air grew thick. The little girl started to scream but Sam couldn’t hear it correctly. Sam felt a darkness creep through him and he passed out.

 

When Sam came too, he didn’t know where he was. 

He looked around. It seemed to be a sort of bedroom. He was lying on a mattress. He was wearing nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt. There were other mattresses in the bedroom, and standing in the door way was a girl. 

She was about 16. Very pretty with long hair tied into several braids and wearing what looked like a bed sheet. For a minute she reminded Sam of Sherlock. 

Sherlock. John. Dean and Cas.

Sam stood up and wobbled for a few seconds.

“Don’t worry.” The girl said more to herself than to Sam.

“What’s going on, who are you, where am I?”

“Father has claimed you.”

“Father, who is Father?”

She smiled. “We live here. Together. Father protects us and brings us what we need.”

“Looks like you’d need some better clothing.”

“We do not need clothing. The air is never too cold, nor too hot. And clothing is only for protecting sensitive areas, and keeping things secret.”

Sam stepped a couple steps back. “I don’t think-“

The girl let the sheet fall off her body.

It wasn’t her beauty that shocked Sam, (though she was very beautiful), but it was the scars and burn marks seared into her body. All the same shape. A circle with an x through it. 

“The hell…” Sam walked over to her and looked at he scars. He touched one on her shoulder hesitantly, “Who did this to you?”

“Father.”

Sam suddenely felt outraged. He grabbed the sheet from the floor and covered the girl with it. 

“What’s your name?”

“Tabitha.”

Sam swallowed. If only he could contact Dean, and find out what had happened to Sherlock and John.

Sam took the girl’s hand in his own, he was so much taller than she was, she barely came to his chest, and her hand was swallowed up by his own. He walked out of the room and saw that there was a long hall, (much too long for the house Sam noted) with doors on each side. All of the doors were open and Sam saw into each one as he and Tabitha walked down the hall. There were kids in each room. Some were sleeping, five or so crammed onto one mattress than reminded Sam of kittens. Others were eating things Sam didn’t want to know. Some seemed to be playing… or fighting. The children, of various ages were doing things that shocked, surprised, and frightened Sam, but he couldn’t look away. 

The hall way ended and they came to a living room with couches and a TV that played nothing but static.

Tabitha pointed to it. “Father talks to us through it.”

Sam added this fact to his growing number of confusing-crap-that-didn’t-make-sense-but-needed-to-be-figured-out list. 

“How does Father talk through it?”

“He appears on the screen, and we feel his voice in our heads. Every night we gather around to hear his voice. Sometimes he brings a new one."

"A new what?"

"A new sibling"

“How does he bring them?”

“The same way he brought you. Magic.”

Sam knew this was worse than regular magic. He’s seen witches and they were nothing like this. 

This was twisted and perverted and sick to the hundredth power, and very much supernatural.

Demons were Sam’s first instinct. But he saw nothing (except cruel hatred and pure evil) that pointed to demons.

“When will Father speak?”

“Tomorrow. He already spoke today.”

“What happened?"

“He brought us you."

“Me…”

“Father said you were different, and you are. Older, wiser, stranger, but still one of us. You are still a child."

"I'm not a child." Sam said.

"Maybe not in body or soul. But you are perceived as a child by those closest to you."

"Dean." Sam thought. He also thought about the last time he’d been chosen to be with people just like him.

It sent shivers down his spine. 

Tabitha pulled him away from the TV screen and into another room that was a kitchen. There were several kids seated around a large table eating food off of plates. Strange looking food Sam rather not describe.

“Are you hungry?”

Sam shook his head and felt his long hair brush his cheeks. “No thank you.” He choked out.

Man he wished Dean was here. Dean would know what to do. He’s force that so called ‘Father’ to appear to him and beat the crap out of him. He might die in the process but Dean had a way of cheating death. Then he’d rescue the children, and everyone would go home to their parents. 

“You miss your brother?”

Sam looked at her. “How did you know?” Sam stopped, “Wait, Father told you?”

Tabitha nodded.  
“So,” Sam started, wanting to find out as much as possible, ‘How long have to been here?”

“Time is different than in the before time.”

Sam recalled what Dean had told him about Tabitha’s parents.

“Your parents miss you.”

“I know they do. But they can’t have me.”

Sam looked at Tabitha. “What does Father do to you?”

“I can’t say.”

“You seem to be very selective of what father will and won’t let you say.”

The girl laughed a pleasant, clear laugh that made Sam’s heart jump. The kids at the table turned to look at them. Sam returned the glare and they turned away. 

“Yes he is.” 

Suddenly Tabitha’s head started shaking like the girl at the door. 

“Tabitha, are you okay?”

She stood up straight. Her eyes were glassed over. She looked at Sam, and touched his arm. Then everything went black.


	7. Sherlock Makes a Choice and Dean Studies Cas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowowwo I'm so sorry this has taken so long for me to update. ahah.

When Sherlock came too, he was laying in an empty lot next to John. He stood up and brushed off his clothing without thinking. He looked around and noticed their car on the other side of the road, which meant he was standing where the house with the children had been. He looked down at John.  
“John.” He lent down and put his hand on the back of John’s neck. He coaxed him awake.  
“Sherlock, what bloody happened?”  
“I don’t know John. Sam disappeared, and so did the house.”  
John stood up and looked around much as Sherlock had done.  
“I’m getting really sick of the supernatural crap.” John said as he pulled out his mobile and started dialing a number.  
“Who are you calling?” Sherlock asked.  
“Dean.”  
Sherlock could hear the phone ringing.  
“Dean, it’s Sam. He’s disappeared.”  
“I don’t know. We went to the Bennet’s house and across the street there was a peculiar looking house and we decide to investigate. We went to the door, Sam knocked, and this creepy little girl answered. Then this other kid came and was talking and before I knew it the air got really thick, and then Sherlock and I woke up in an empty lot right where the house was.”  
“I don’t know I told you, you’re supposed to be the hunter!”  
“Yeah alright.”  
John hung up the phone and Sherlock cocked his head.  
“Dean wants us to stay here. They’re on their way.”  
7 minutes later the classic black car rolled up with a roar and stopped right in front of the empty lot. Dean and Cas climbed out and motioned Sherlock and John (who’d been sitting on the hood of their own car) to follow them to the empty lot.  
When they got there Sherlock watched as Dean and Cas were waving around various detector things around in the air trying to get, Sherlock supposed, some sort of supernatural reading. But to no avail.  
“Dammit Sammy!” Dean yelled as he threw the meter across the lot.  
Cas ran to go pick it up. He obvious liked Dean, even if he wasn’t fully aware. The way he followed him, watched his every word, how his pupils dilated, and his movements rotated around where Dean was.  
Suddenly Dean’s phone rang. He answered it without a second thought. “Sammy!?”  
“Kevin?”  
“Yeah he’s missing. John and Sherlock here says he disappeared along with a whole building. Tell me something Kev, anything.”  
Dean was silent for a minute or so. Then he said.  
“Slendermen?”  
“Yeah I guess but this whole thing with Sam…”

“Yeah okay. Thanks a lot.”  
Dean hung up and looked at the group.  
“Kevin says the closet thing he can find is a page on the internet. Kid didn’t even find it in the archives. He says recently an urban legend has been popping up of a guy, super tall and slender with no face, a black suit, and tentacles who kidnaps children. Now to what he is exactly, is difficult to put down but Kevin thinks it might be a whole new thing. Maybe a half-blood or something.”  
Everyone was quiet.  
“Did he say how to catch it?”  
“He says no one has ever survived. People report this creature as being very quick and also having the power to teleport. He also messes camera and video and things like that. It seems to fit in with what we’ve been hearing. Except the eye loss, which seems to be a link, why all these children, and most importantly, Sam. And no, no way of catching or killing it. Kevin also said he’s only ever reported taking children.”  
Cas put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Don’t worry Dean, we’ll find him.”  
“You’re damn right we’ll find him. Alive. Now, Sherlock, John head to the police station, library, anywhere and try to find out everything you can about this lot.”  
John nodded. Since when had John, become the leader? Sherlock had always been the one ahead, and now John was. Those 2 years must have really changed John.  
And finding out about all this… The supernatural aspect of life must have changed Sherlock.  
He didn’t like it. He liked it when John would follow as Sherlock would solve crimes and make deductions. He loved it when he’d do something terribly clever and John would look at him like he was the most brilliant, spectacular, smartest person in existence.  
Sort of like how Cas looked at Dean.  
Now John was the one ahead. Just because he could wrap his head around what Dean had told him.  
It infuriated Sherlock. He looked at Dean who was explaining things to John and Cas. They were both nodding their heads.  
That moment, Sherlock decided, he was going to be the best. There was a whole other world Sherlock knew nothing about, full of creatures who murdered for a certain reason. Sherlock just needed to learn how to deduce a monster.  
He could feel a smile forming on his lips, one that he hadn’t formed in a very long time. He saw John look at him and smile back. There was something in John’s smile. Relief.  
“Come John, we have a house to find.” He put his hands in his pockets and crossed the street with John loping behind on his short legs. He got into the passenger’s seat and waited for John to start driving.  
Sherlock smiled to himself as John drove away. The look on Dean and Cas’s face was worth it.  
“You’re back.” John said. Sherlock could hear a smiled in his voice. “I missed you.”  
Sherlock looked at John. “I didn’t know what to do. I was scared, scared of what I didn’t know. So I made a decision. I will learn all about this life of Sam, Dean and Cas. I will make it my own. Think of all the possibilities of murder John!”  
“Here we go.” John said still ridiculously happy.  
“These creature have their own agenda, so they read and discovered, and I will learn them. I will become the first consulting hunter.”  
This made John slam on the breaks. He looked at Sherlock. “You want to become a hunter?”  
“Yes of course John, what else is there? Life was getting boring anyway. People have been doing the same murders for 100s of years. I want something new.”  
John started up the car. He waited a minute before answering. “Ok. I’ll come with you.”  
“Of course John. I could do nothing without you. And, thank you. By the way. For last night.”  
Sherlock saw John’s face turn a slight shade of pink. “Don’t mention it.”  
Sherlock looked back onto the road. He liked being John’s Dean.  
They drove up to the library, and parked. They got out of the car and walked up the steps to the library. Inside there were only a few people. Sherlock walked with purpose to the information desk.  
“Hello, can you help me with something?” He put on his, I’m-really-normal-and-terribly-sweet voice.  
“What is it dear?” Asked the little old lady at the desk.  
“I’m trying to find out about an old house. XXXX Grandier Road?”  
The old lady looked at Sherlock. “Since you’re not from around here, I don’t except you to know, but anyone who’s been in Moorestead for any amount time will know about that place.”  
“Can you tell me about it?”  
“Well for one, there hasn’t been a house in that lot for about 70 years.”  
“Pardon, 70 years?” John asked.  
“Yes, I was 8 when they burned that building down. Terrible business, shocked the entire town. This would have been….1943. There had been children going missing all over town for about a year. The police were at their wits end. When they got a call saying they had heard yelling and screaming from across the street.” The police rushed right over there quick as you please. The house the noises had come from had been XXXX Grandier drive. The cops barreled down the door searched the entire place, until they heard more screaming. They ran to the basement and discovered a hidden door and behind that door was a huge room. Standing right in the middle was a girl. She was about 15, and covered in blood. Lying at her feet was the body of a man who was dead. The room was full of jars on shelves full of strange things. There were tables with knives and other things not fit for any normal person. People said it looked like a butcher shop. And no wonder too. The cops tried to help the girl and the man, but the girl pointed to a door behind her, where countless children were hiding, huddling in corners.  
“When all the children were rescued, the girl who had killed the man was brought in for questioning. She was quiet shaken up but eager to speak her mind. She said the man…” The woman stopped but Sherlock knew what she was going to say.  
“The man was eating was children?”  
The woman shook her head. “That was just it. There were all the clues of cannibalism. Except for two important factors, one, the man never had eaten any. They made tests to prove it. And two…. The children were convinced another thing came to eat them. A monster they said.”  
Sherlock thought this over committing it to memory. “Thank you.” He said, whooshing out. John also said thank you, and apologized for the terrible thing she had gone through as a child, and then followed Sherlock out.  
They got into the car.  
“What I want to know is how the hell we saw that house, and knocked on that door, and met that little girl if there isn’t even a house.” John looked over at Sherlock and saw that he already had his mobile to his ear.  
“Dean, we have news.”  
“What?”  
“In 1943 the house was used to house children who were being eaten by a monster.”  
“Anything else?”  
“The house was burned down in the same year.”  
“You guys said you knocked on the door. You saw the house.”  
“Yes we did, and I think it’s safe to presume that Sam is in that house right now.”  
“Yeah you’re probably right. How the hell do we get inside a nonexistent house?”  
Sherlock was quiet.  
“Meet us as Lucifer’s Hallow.” And Dean hung up.  
“What did they say?” Cas said.  
“The house that took Sam hasn’t been there in decades.”  
Cas thought this over. “Does this sound like anything you and Dean have seen before?”  
“No. And it doesn’t even sound like the thing Kevin talked about. Slenderman or whatever.”  
“I’m sure Sam will be okay. How about a ghost? Some sort of vengeful spirit?”  
“Maybe. I’m just not sure. Sherlock said the lady said, 70 years ago the house was being used to hold kids that had been kidnapped. But the bodies of the dead children were never recovered. The house had signs of cannibalism, but the children said that a monster was eating them. But the dude killed them and cut them up. Put organs in jars and used the body parts as different parts of the ritual or some weird shit.”  
“Who was the ritual for?”  
“Sounds like maybe they were trying to being something back from the dead. Sort of like giving the life of the children to this monster. Children do have very powerful spirits.”  
Dean thought back to the time long ago when his little brother’s spirit had almost been eaten by a shriga. But this seemed different.  
“But it’s eating the body. Not the spirit.” Cas said.  
“Well the wendigo, after eating enough human flesh becomes a monster. Maybe something like that is happening.” Dean said.  
“So…70 years ago, monster tries to rise from the dead by eating the souls and bodies of kidnapped children. Now he’s back to regain power. Finish what he started.” Cas though out.  
It was a good theory, Dean admitted. But it still brought them no closer to rescuing Sam.  
“Come on we got to meet the brits at the forest.”  
Dean got into his car and Cas got into the shotgun. Dean revved the engine and they drove towards Lucifer’s Hallow.  
“I miss them.” Cas said out of the blue.  
“Huh…” Dean said absentmindedly.  
“My brothers, my family.”  
“Oh.” Dean said.  
“Sometimes, I think they’re still there. Or in my head. Or still…up in heaven.”  
“Where do angels go when they die?”  
Cas didn’t speak for a while. “I’m not sure.” He said finally. “Hell, I suppose if they’ve disobeyed God.” Cas faded, “That’s where I’ll go when I die.” He said quiet as a mouse.  
Dean stopped the car and turned to look at the graceless angel in shotgun. He took a good, look at him. His hair was brown. Darker than Sam’s, but not as long. It was longer than Dean’s though, and looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.  
His eyes were below eyebrows that unlike Cas himself were full of grace. His eyes were sad looking, and bright blue that contrasted Dean’s own green eyes perfectly. His nose was long and tipped up just slightly. He had scruff surrounding a flat mouth that Dean knew could produce the sweetest smiles, and the most heartbreakingest frowns.  
He was dressed in a blue and brown striped t-shirt, (for some reason Cas like stripes.) a dark green button up, (unbuttoned of course) and a leather jacket Dean had bought for him on the day the Winchesters decided should be his birthday.) He had simple jeans that still looked new, and on his feet, all-star converse of all things.  
Dean liked that Cas had made a style for himself, while still looking like a hunter. A gun was in his inside jacket pocket, and Dean knew of a few other weapons, including his angel knife, that were hidden on Cas. He wore a silver medallion that Dean had never studied before. It looked catholic, and Dean let out a small, sad sigh when he was it was of the angel Cassiel. The catholic version of Cas.  
He thought of the tattoos Cas had. Dean, Sam, and Kevin each only had one. But Cas had more. For some reason he liked the pain or something.  
He had a protection against angels tattoo on his torso, and an anti-possession on his back. He also had wings tattooed on his back, which Dean thought was a bit extreme but understandable.  
He also had the names of all his brothers, and other family members, (good and bad) tattooed in enocian up and down his arms. He was such a sap. Dean though secretly. But he also was considering of doing the same things. He’d get all the family members he’d had over the years tattooed on his arms.  
His Dad, his Mom, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Ben and his mother, and of course Sammy and Jess. Maybe if he was even feeling sappy himself he’d get Adam too. Poor Adam.  
“Cas. You know I’m not much of a religious type.” Dean said after this deep overview of Cas. “ But everything you’ve done, you’ve done with the absolute best intentions. And if you don’t get into heaven, god help me, I will kill whoever put you in hell, and put you in heaven myself.” Dean said all this in a gravely voice while trying not to choke up at the thought of Cas dead.  
“Thanks, Dean.” Cas said almost halfheartedly.  
“No Cas, look at me.” Dean said forcefully so that Cas turned his head to look at Dean.  
“Sam and I are your family now. Forever. You will never be alone. Not ever.” Dean ended with putting the car into drive and speeding away. He turned the music up and the sound of Spirit in the Sky filled the car.


End file.
